It’s fledging time. With a ring-side seat last week, from first our living room windows, and then from the kitchen door, I watched the activity of our barn swallow family, as the young fledged their mud-nest home. Each year we allow one family to build over the kitchen door at the end of a long porch. We get scolded by the parent birds, threatening us to keep our distance, as well as a terrible mess of their droppings deposited beneath the nest at our threshold. In return, we get a natural airborne exterminator for flying pests. And we get an entertaining show of parenthood, of growing up, and of beautiful aerodynamics. I was captivated by the similarities between the subject of my spying, and our growth as humans.

After a few days of seeing their little heads pop over the edge of their nest, I was not surprised to find five young barn swallows precariously perched on the porch rail, and on our bench, making feeble attempts at flying. One tumbled into the bed of 4 O’clocks below the rail. Continuing to observe them, I made several notes, as follows.

Parent birds fly near, perch beside them and the young’s mouths gape open for the usual feeding; but mom knows that to keep hand-feeding will result in weak children unable to fend for themselves. Disappointed fledglings watch as mother flies away, calling out as she does so. I think about how our own children, as well as children of God, wait eagerly for parental care — handouts, only to find we do not get everything we want. We need to be coaxed into reaching out, gaining strength, and learning to be responsible. So we pray, study, and grow.

Let there be no doubt, the young do not simply fly the nest! There are fumbling, tumbling and fluttering moments with much clinging, and faltering baby steps. Imitating the parents, they begin preening, and taking short lift-offs and landings; all the while, expecting the continuous feeding. And the mess they make follows them to their new perches while trying to balance on the rail as well as a small dinner bell attached to the porch wall. They seem to be trying to get nearer the airfield Mother Swallow is expected to use. After a period of time known only by the mother’s instinct, she resumes the feeding as they huddle on the dinner bell and arm of the bench.. She is aware her young still need sustenance. So, while the parents are using tough love to teach the young to survive, they continue their care tediously, tirelessly, and tenderly. Our Father God has always chastised His children, and blessed them tenderly, for the sole purpose of their spiritual well being and safety; and that they will become their best image of Him. Many messes are made by all children as we grasp, cling, fumble and fall. Learning to be what we are meant to be is not easy. Grand effort is made as well, by all parents worth the salt in their bread, to bring their young to maturity, enabling them success when they’ve flown the nest.

Building their strength along with their courage over a few hours time, each fledgling eventually gives it a try. Unwilling to allow me to look for the first jumper, Ma Swallow threatens me to stay away, and I know she will coax that one as well, from its hiding place below. She will not give up her guarding, coaxing, and nourishing; tediously, tirelessly, and tenderly. Jesus’ parable in Matthew 18: 12 explains her concern, as well as the action God takes for His jumpers. Even one out of a hundred is worth going after.

Though the young are now very near the size of the parent birds, a little observation shows their instability and her quick, sure maneuvers to show who is who. I watch the gaping (identical to me) mouths all lined up, as she swoops in with bug after bug, and I wonder how does she know whose turn it is to eat. In her absence, the babies toddle about, look up toward the nest they’ve left, and I imagine a look of “well guys, there’s no going back there!” They trust the care will continue. They walk around each other with those halted steps on the old wooden bench. One live bug, the size of a fly, dropped from the beak of one young bird. Mother saw it and swooped back in, picked it up, and swallowed it. How many times have our moms waited for leftovers? Or perhaps she taught another lesson — waste not, want not. She is still the boss; and so is our God. Once we have walked with Him, we know we never want to go back.

Perhaps you are a bird enthusiast too, and enjoy the activity, the similarities and differences between them and other animals, and the reminders of our own lives. Watching them, I sensed how tediously, tirelessly and tenderly our Father has cared for His children, always. As we are reborn to become His, He provides the word to nourish us, tenderly leading us in paths of righteousness (Psalm 23:3). He gives us a shield and strength (Psalm 28:7); He disciplines and corrects those who are His (Proverbs 3:11-12, Hebrews 12:6). We mess up; He waits. We falter; He encourages. We eventually fly; He rejoices. “The Lord your God in your midst, the Mighty One, will save; He will rejoice over you with gladness, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing.” (Zephaniah 3:17)

Someday I shall be ready to fly. He will have prepared me, supplied for me, and protected me to take the final flight from the nest and I will soar, never to return. In the meantime, I wait, hoping in the Lord and renewing my strength, and then I shall mount up with wings like eagles, being neither weary nor faint. (Isaiah 40:31) Have a wonderful week, Trisha